


I Quite Like You a Little Bit

by Othalla



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Lyanna Lives, F/M, Humor, Marriage Proposal, Queen Lyanna Stark, R plus L equals J, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-17 12:18:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13658823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Othalla/pseuds/Othalla
Summary: Oberyn wants to get married. Again.





	I Quite Like You a Little Bit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [l_cloudy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/l_cloudy/gifts).



> So, uh, this is a fic. It's not the one I started writing back when I saw your request in the request summary before the assignments were even out, or any of the ten that came after that one (all of which, might, possibly, make their appearance in your gift box at one point or another). No, this is probably the eleventh fic, if someone was to count (but then who's doing that? not me).  
> But yeah.  
> Have some kissing fluffy things.
> 
> /Author who maybe fell in love with game of thrones fics bc of some fics your wrote some while back
> 
> The kind beta who looked this over is [rosefox!](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosefox)

“I disapprove of this decision,” Oberyn says.

“What,” Lyanna says as she takes her dress off and throws it on the floor. “You don’t want to have sex?”

He stares at her breasts as they’re bared to the world, greedily tracing the line where they rise up above the bodice holding them in with his eyes. “No,” he says distractedly, and licks his lips.

Lyanna has the time to snort before he catches himself and realises what he just said.

“I mean, _yes_! Of course I want to have sex. I love sex. Sex is great.” He pauses to grimace at himself and that less than stellar save.

Because she’s a very nice person, Lyanna laughs at him.

Oberyn crosses his arms over his naked chest and frowns gravely in her direction.

Looking like she doesn’t notice, she smiles. Then she takes off her stockings, crosses the room in a few long strides, and straddles him without further ado. Her thick thighs surround him. Her breasts are just below eye level, swaying slightly with the pace of her breathing.

She scrapes her nails over the nape of his neck. Without thinking, he moves his arms around her, twining his fingers together at the small of her back, and once again he gets distracted by her breasts.

They’re very pretty breasts, okay. It’s not his fault.

He sighs and rests his head on her shoulder. “I had plans,” he grumbles after a moment of simply breathing her in. She smells like a somewhat fresh sea breeze. How, he doesn’t understand. Kings Landing smells like shit and piss on a good day, and today has been hot and clammy. “ _Amazing_ plans, which are now ruined because you’ve seduced me with your womanly viles.”

Lyanna hums in response, and he can feel her throat vibrating against his lips and tongue. “How decidedly devilish of me, seducing my _husband_. Of all people.” Her nails scrape their way up his scalp as she cradles his head in her hands, and Oberyn leans into the touch with a soft groan, closing his eyes without thought.

She’s very talented with her fingers. It’s almost to the point where he considers a neck massage to be about as pleasurable as a someone giving him a handjob. Which, to be clear, is not a thought Oberyn ever thought he’d have, because he’s a big fan of actions involving dicks in general (whose dick need not be specified).

With a dedication he appreciates deeply, Lyanna works her fingers back down his neck, thumbs digging harshly into the sore muscles on his shoulders before she moves to his biceps.

He almost doesn’t notice her lean down. But then, she’s whispering into his ear, all breathy and needy, “I should have seduced the stable boy, instead. I’m sure _he’d_ appreciate it.”

Which, nope. Nuh-uh. That’s not an okay statement to make. Only because it doesn't include Oberyn—he’d be all for seducing the stable boy, because that one that he’s sure she means is very pretty indeed, and Oberyn would be all for blowing his mind together.

Quick as a cat, Oberyn grabs hold of Lyanna’s hips and spins them around until she’s splayed out on the bed below him, her hair spread in dramatic curls around her head. He shifts until he’s caging her in with an arm on each side.

Her hands, momentarily having been thrown off by his sudden movement, return to clutch his upper arms. Oberyn flexes so that she can properly admire his exquisite physique.

Lyanna’s cheeks are red. She’s staring at his mouth, all the while she’s digging her teeth into her own lip.

He preens, just a little, and takes a moment to appreciate a beautiful woman getting properly hot and bothered over him.

“You were saying?” he asks.

Lyanna starts slightly, eyes flicking up to his.

Oberyn grins down at her, completely unrepentant.

Then he remembers why they were even in this situation to begin with, and pouts. “I had _plans_ , oh wife of mine.”

Lyanna groans, and sadly it’s not a groan of pleasure but of exasperation. “Fine,” she says, and rolls her eyes. “Please, tell me about your plans, Oberyn. I’m sure they’re _riveting._ ”

Oberyn opens his mouth to do so, thank you very much, only no sound comes out. He gapes silently for a moment. Then he remembers himself and his image and closes his mouth with a clack of his teeth, suddenly intensely interested in the groove that's barely visible in the wooden bedframe.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he catches Lyanna’s eyebrows moving into a confused frown. It’s a good look on her, very adorable, but he can’t give it the appreciation it deserves at the moment.

“Oberyn?” Lyanna rises up on her elbows. Her look turns to concern when he doesn’t immediately look down to her very exposed and beautifully framed breasts. “What’s wrong?”

Gods, she even _sounds_ adorable when she’s confused and worried. How utterly terrible of her.

Sighing, he shifts so that he’s sitting upright, and Lyanna rises up to follow him, leaving them the mirror image of the position they’d been in just minutes before.

“So,” he begins at last, fumbling for words in a way he isn’t used to. “It’s been a year, today,” he says, and then he stops.

“Yes,” Lyanna prompts when he’s stayed quiet for too long.

Oberyn hasn’t experienced being tongue tied like this since he was a green adolescent who didn’t know how to use his own cock. Surprisingly, he didn’t miss it much.

He takes a breath. Then he blows the air out forcefully through his nose and says, “I just thought, you know, that we could have dinner in the garden. With Jon,” he adds, because the boy has grown on him like fungus and he actually really likes him. “And the girls.”

Lyanna blinks. “That sounds lovely,” she says after a beat. “But we do that all the time. As far as amazing plans, go, they’re kind of lackluster.”

Which, fair.

Since he’s had rather enough with being an idiot, Oberyn elaborates. “And I think we should start planning our wedding. Again. Since we never got around doing it your way, I mean. We could do the whole woods thing.” He throws his hands up in the air slightly to emphasize, because he’s not all too sure how to define the northern customs for getting married other than there being woods involved. “It’s a little late, maybe, but I don’t think your people would mind.”

Deciding that just about sums up his plans, Oberyn shuts up with a final nod, and settles in to wait for a reply. He’s somewhat expecting a scathing one, because _Lyanna_. But also he’s kind of not. It could go either way, really.

She might just laugh at him.

He doesn’t feel quite brave enough to see her debate on how she’s to deal with his plans, but then Lyanna doesn’t say anything for a long time, and Oberyn gets worried enough that he has to look at her. Just to see that he hasn’t driven her to tears, or anything.

Her face is redder than he’s ever seen it before, and she’s staring at him like he’s gone and grown a second face he didn’t know about. If Oberyn didn’t know her, he’d say she was embarrassed. Which is a ridiculous thought that can’t possibly be true because Lyanna Stark gets embarrassed by nothing.

“Lyanna? Are you quite all right?”

Lyanna coughs. “I’m just dandy,” she replies, and her voice comes out unexpectedly high.

Oberyn considers that for a moment. “Okay,” he says finally, drawing out the sound uncertainly.

She keeps staring at him. “Just so we’re clear. You,” she points at him, “want to get married. Again. Even though the last time you got married you spent a solid week complaining about how much of a hassle it had been and how you didn’t even see the point of it in the first place.”

An accurate assessment of Oberyn’s general approach to marriage: it’s bothersome. Given that their marriage had been arranged with little say from either of them, all _for the good of the Realm, Oberyn_ , he thinks he quite deserved the chance to complain about it to someone equally effected by the ordeal.

But that’s a whole year ago now, and he’s since grown unbearably fond of his wife. Not something he saw coming, but it is what it is. And it’s quite good.

He wouldn’t actually be opposed to getting married again, if it would make her happy.

Oberyn shrugs. “Pretty much.”

Lyanna scowls at him confusedly. “Just like that.”

He hums in assent, not explaining that the idea hadn’t taken root at all before Lady Mormont came and threatened to castrate him if he didn’t marry Lyanna all proper. As a motivator, giant Mormont ladies with axes leaning over you is a good one.

Especially when they’re correct.

As Lyanna doesn’t believe in the Seven, she isn’t tied to him the same level which he is tied to her, he thinks. Which won’t do, because Oberyn would quite like to keep her.

“You want to marry me,” Lyanna repeats, “again.”

Oberyn sighs. Loudly. Then he pushes her down onto the bed, holds her there with his arms on her shoulders and his hands in her hair, and proceeds to kiss her silly. “Yes,” he says. “I want to marry you. _Again._ ”

“Okay then,” Lyanna says, finally responding to his proposal instead of simply repeating it back to him. Then she grabs him by the neck and pulls him down roughly, until they’re breathing the same air. “Let’s get married.”

“Great.” Oberyn kisses her until they’re both out of breath. “I was thinking maybe next month? That should leave us with enough to to make our way up north and get the practicals out of the way.”

Lyanna laughs. “You want to ride north to get married?”

“Yes?” He leaves her mouth to drag his teeth over her jaw. “I mean, we can’t expect your family to move themselves down here a second time.”

Leaning back her head, she invites him to trail his searching mouth down further, and he’s all too happy to oblige. He bites down on her neck and she moans, high and loud.

“It’s cold. You’ll be complaining about it constantly,” she says between breaths.

“Yeah,” Oberyn agrees. “I probably will. Wanna head out tomorrow?”

Lyanna laughs. She sounds happy.

“Yes,” she says, and then they don't talk for a while.


End file.
